


Warmth

by stardustandswimmingpools



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, Bar & Bat Mitzvah, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon Jewish Character, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Gay, Gross, HIV/AIDS, Last words, Love, M/M, Men Crying, and i forgot how fucking great it is, angst with no happy ending sorry guys, fuck spelling, i just remembered the word imperceptible, jason doesnt talk he's just there for a sec, lil bit of weird formatting but pretty imperceptible, my basement smells like vacuum cleaner bc i just vacummed, poor jason jesus christ that kid did NOT deserve what he got, starts at the end of more racquetball, thank u PBS for the proshot i love you, whats the word for this type of fic?? i dont know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 06:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12551408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandswimmingpools/pseuds/stardustandswimmingpools
Summary: The moment Whizzer collapses, Marvin runs outside and uses the first payphone he sees to call Charlotte. He’s struggling to maintain his calm.“Doctor Charlotte’s office, how can I help you?”“Charlotte,” Marvin breathes hoarsely. He swallows. “Charlotte, something is wrong.”





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I was done officially writing for the Falsettos fandom, and then the proshot came out.  
> Anyway, this is a canon!verse, canon compliant, canon era etc etc fic that I wrote literally like one hour after the show aired on PBS and it's sad and not edited or anything but give it a shot  
> also poor Jason!!! can you imagine if your almost-dad literally fucking died during your bar/bat mitzvah?? i would never trust anyone ever again  
> okay on that note, read on!

The moment Whizzer collapses, Marvin runs outside and uses the first payphone he sees to call Charlotte. He’s struggling to maintain his calm. 

“Doctor Charlotte’s office, how can I help you?”

“Charlotte,” Marvin breathes hoarsely. He swallows. “Charlotte, something is wrong.”

* * *

It is painfully obvious that Charlotte is trying not to upset them too much. She’s too ambivalent; she says things like “might be” and “potentially” and “there’s a chance that”. Marvin wants to believe her. He so badly wants to believe that she knows exactly what’s happened and how to fix it.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t believe her, and she doesn’t know how to fix it.

Marvin wants to be angry at Charlotte, but he can’t. She’s doing her best. She’s doing her goddamn best.

It’s just that her best isn’t good enough.

* * *

Whizzer is dying. Whizzer is definitely dying. Whizzer has a terminal illness from which there is no chance he will recover.

So Marvin tries his fucking hardest to pretend like Whizzer will live long and prosper.

At night, after Whizzer falls asleep, fitfully kicking for a few minutes before settling down and snoring gently, Marvin sits by his bedside and watches his sleeping face.

At risk of sounding cliché, Whizzer looks like an angel.

His face has a light sheen of sweat, but for once it’s at peace: not battling to maintain the pretense of happiness, of calmness in the face of certain fate, of hope.

Marvin knows Whizzer has already given up. He wants to hate Whizzer for that.

But there’s no way to fight this. That’s the gospel truth. There’s no way out. It’s a one way street with a dead end, and Whizzer is barrelling towards it at full speed.

And Marvin almost morbidly admires how Whizzer floors the engine when he realizes he’s racing towards his own death. If it were Marvin, he’d be doing anything and everything to slow down just a little bit before he hits the wall.

Asleep, Whizzer can’t step on the gas. He can just drift.

But sometimes he coughs in his sleep and Marvin’s heart stops until he hears his boyfriend breathe again.

The knowledge that he might start coughing one night and just cease to breathe entirely is so gut-wrenchingly terrifying that it keeps Marvin awake, on edge, prepared to shout for a doctor at the sight of anything slightly wrong.

* * *

Charlotte is finally being honest.

Marvin is going to die.

 

He has what Whizzer has, and what Whizzer has doesn’t have a name, but it’s deadly and it’s contagious and it means Marvin is going to die.

 

And suddenly he understands why Whizzer is gunning it.

There is no goddamn way he is going to go through the sappy, painful, heart-wrenching goodbyes again. Not again. No fucking way.

But nobody knows that he’s going to die. Nobody but him and Charlotte.

Whizzer is going to die thinking Marvin will live.

And it seems like that is his only reprieve.

So he keeps it to himself.

* * *

“I love you, you know,” Marvin whispers, a shaky smile upturning his lips. He puts a palm on Whizzer’s face. It’s warm from being constantly pressed against a pillow. Whenever possible, he keeps his hands on Whizzer. Whizzer is heat and reassurance that he’s still here. 

Eventually he’ll turn stone-cold and eventually so will Marvin. But right now, right here, they’re both alive, and Marvin can hold him, can feel his heart beating through his wrist and his shallow breathing reverberating in his lungs and he can stroke his boyfriend’s face and kiss him and love him.

“I know,” Whizzer says softly, a very slight smirk on his mouth. It’s gone quickly. The Whizzer that smirked is gone now. The expression is replaced with...earnesty. “I love you, too.”

“I always will,” Marvin adds. He sound desperate and he knows he does. But if Whizzer dies without knowing how goddamn much Marvin loves him…

There is no way Marvin could live with that. “I’m serious. I love you more than anything in the world. I love you. I  _ love you. _ ”

“Marvin,” Whizzer says, and then cuts off as he coughs. It’s getting to sound worse and worse. Marvin balls up the hem of his sweatshirt in his free hand and makes soothing noises and gently caresses Whizzer’s face until the coughing subsides. “Marvin,” Whizzer repeats insistently. “I’m still here.”

“I — I know.” Marvin shakes his head. “I know.”

“I know you love me,” Whizzer says, delicately prying Marvin’s hand from his face and kissing his fingertips one by one.

Marvin sighs anxiously. The closeness is never enough: even pressed against Whizzer, it’s like there’s cold air between them, distance that grows wider each day.

He wants to absorb whatever is left of Whizzer, revive him, keep him alive inside his heart like a fire in his chest. He clambers into the shitty hospital bed and Whizzer curls into his chest, pressing Marvin’s hand over his heart.

He can feel Whizzer’s heartbeat. It’s there, and it’s steady, if a little slow.  _ Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. _

“I’ll always love you,” Whizzer mumbles against Marvin’s chest.

And then he’s asleep. And dying, slowly, again, every day.

Marvin hasn’t slept for three days.

* * *

On the day when Whizzer dies, Marvin wakes up in his own bed for the first time in weeks, feels the cold side of the bed where Whizzer once resided, feels his heart climb into his throat until he retches.

He gets out of bed and vomits into the toilet.

Then he goes to the hospital, because there is a bar mitzvah to be had, for God’s sake.

 

On the day when Whizzer dies, Marvin realizes that Jason looks exactly like him. In fact, he’s almost the spitting image of Marvin at twelve years old.

This revelation aches in Marvin’s chest. 

He kisses Whizzer gently when he sees him, still lying in that stupid fucking hospital bed, looking weaker and grayer than ever. His smile is barely there: a ghost. But he makes the effort, and he grabs Marvin’s hand as he struggles out of the bed.

Still warm. Still warm. Still alive, pumping blood, and warm.

This is what Marvin keeps saying to himself as they set up Jason’s ceremony.

 

On the day when Whizzer dies, Cordelia makes good Jewish food for the first and probably last time in her life.

It tastes amazing, and that makes everything worse. But Marvin smiles at her, and feels that his smile is halfway forced, and doesn’t try and make it more real. 

He smiles at his son, his beautiful, beautiful son, who is now becoming a new man in the hospital room of a dying man. He ruffles Jason’s hair and redoes his tie for him and he thinks:  _ Whizzer would have been the best fucking dad to Jason. _

Instead of saying this, he tells Jason that he is so proud.

And for a moment — he is. That is, he has always been so proud. But for a moment he can forget that everything is collapsing around him into rubble on the ashen ground. For just a split second, a transitory minute, Marvin looks into Jason’s eyes.

He looks…

Resigned.

And determined.

And even half-smiling.

So Marvin kisses the top of his head and steps away. He wraps an arm around Whizzer’s waist and he listens to his child chant the torah.

 

On the day when Whizzer dies, Marvin’s heart swells with pride for his son. Love for his son. So that when Whizzer dies, Marvin has forgotten that Whizzer has been dying.

* * *

The most devastating thing in the world must be to have your best friend slash almost-stepfather die at your bar mitzvah.

Marvin is fighting tears that fill his eyes. He knows this is it.

He wraps a hand around Whizzer’s neck and pulls him in for a long kiss. He can taste Whizzer’s tears.

This does not help.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I will always love you, I will never ever stop loving you, okay? You’re the best person in my life — the best man I’ve ever known. Without you I’d be nothing.”

“Marvin, let me —” The desperation in Whizzer’s voice, plus the obvious struggle to speak at all, cuts Marvin off. “Marvin,” Whizzer says weakly. He manages a smile, and this time — this time it’s  _ real, _ full of warmth and light and beauty and love. “Marvin. I love you. And I —” He coughs. “I have been better — because of you.” He coughs again, and Marvin grips his hand tighter, holding on to this last shred of life. Warm. Warm. Warm. His hand is warm. His voice is warm. “Marvin,” Whizzer rasps, clutching to Marvin’s forearm. “Thank you. I love you. Never forget that I love you.”

“I love you too,” Marvin says, through tears that are now falling freely, “God, Whizzer — please — don’t — Whizzer, I — please, you can’t leave me, not now, not after all that we’ve — Whizzer, please!  _ Please! _ ”

His eyes are squeezed shut to blink away tears, and he doesn’t realize the moment that 

Whizzer

dies.

Because his hand, for another moment, is still warm.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading this! you can find me on tumblr @vivilevone talking about falsettos and stranger things 2 (currently) and also lots of other shows and musicals, etc. have a good one!


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